


Busy Hands and Idle Minds

by Shergar



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Baking, Clary Fray & Alec Lightwood Friendship, Post 2x18 Soul Sword Breakup, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shergar/pseuds/Shergar
Summary: Baking had become Alec's therapy...and they were out of eggs.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Busy Hands and Idle Minds

The first thing that Alec ever baked was chocolate chip cookies from some dusty old cookbook sequestered away in the Institute’s library. It was late and Izzy was crying - she’d broken something earlier in the day and their parents had yelled (they were always yelling) and he’d tried to get her to calm down but she just continued to get herself more worked up. Finally, he resorted to what worked on most children...he offered her candy. 

They’d snuck out of their rooms and down to the kitchen in the middle of the night only to find that there wasn’t any candy, only a bag of chocolate chips and little Izzy was not happy with that revelation. She’d started to sniffle (the kind that would soon lead to full out wailing if he wasn’t careful) so Alec had shushed her and tried a different approach. Yes, they had no candy and that was sad but what about making cookies?

Izzy had perked right up and they had tip-toed to the library to find a cookbook that probably hadn’t been used in years, taking their prize back to the kitchen to get started. They followed the recipe as best as they could and while the cookies weren’t anywhere near perfect, they’d done the job. Izzy had calmed down, they’d cleaned the kitchen and snuck the rest of the cookies back to their rooms. No one was ever the wiser.

Sneaking down to bake became their little secret and when Jace had arrived, he joined them as well. 

Eventually, his siblings hadn’t needed their middle of the night baking comfort sessions as they found other ways to work off their emotions. And yes, Alec liked training as much as the next guy, but sometimes he didn’t want to use his fists to fight off his feelings, sometimes he just wanted to keep his hands busy. He could do that in the kitchen...especially in the dead of night when everyone else had long since gone to bed and there was no one creeping around the corner to judge him. 

Jace had been the one to point out the direct correlation between his moods and what new desserts or baked goods turned up mysteriously in the kitchen the next day. Muffins or scones if he had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep, cookies if he was feeling nostalgic, bread if he was frustrated, pies if he was angry… Jace had a list and Alec kind of hated him for that just a little bit. He hadn’t realized he was so obvious but Jace had the benefit of being the other half of that pesky parabatai bond. 

“I haven’t figured out the macarons,” Jace said one morning as he shamelessly shoveled a piece of apple pie into his mouth. The three of them had finished training for the morning and were taking a break in the kitchen before they headed out for their afternoon patrols. “I don’t know what vibe I get through the bond… but I know that when you make macarons it’s not good. They might be delicious but I hope we never see those fuckers again.” Alec had given him a long, level look and Jace suddenly found his pie more interesting. The conversation had died there.

After Alec and Magnus started dating, the late-night baking sessions had nearly trickled to a halt. His siblings were wise enough to not bring it up. 

The break up after the whole soul sword fiasco changed things. The late-night baking came back in full force and the macarons turned up more often than not. 

Clary was only mildly surprised to find Alec in the training room late one evening wailing on a punching bag like his life depended on it. “Are you alright?” She asked, stepping into the room even though she was sure he’d already registered her presence. 

“We’re out of eggs” was the only response she got. 

“So make something else?”

“I need eggs.” Clary sighed, walking up beside him and gently pulling back his arm before he could throw another punch. 

“The world won’t stop just because you didn’t make macarons tonight.”

He pushed her hand off and stalked back towards the bench where he left his shirt and a bottle of water. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Clary. Leave it alone.” He finished his water and tossed the bottle to the side before using his shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. 

“An Alec who makes macarons is an Alec who is lost.”

He inhaled sharply and shot her a look that was pure ice before schooling his features once more. He dropped to the bench and let his head fall to his hands. “I messed up,” He said after a moment, unable to keep it bottled up any longer. He’d question his judgment, later, that the one person he chose to spill the beans to was none other than Clary Fray but that was a problem for later Alec. “I just need to keep my hands busy. If I stop, I just start thinking about it again, and then that’s all I can think about.”

“I can understand wanting to stay busy, but over-training yourself isn’t the way to do it. I think you were the one who told me that wasn’t the answer to everything,” Clary replied with a small smile. “I know macarons are sort of your...thing when you feel like this but maybe you should give something else a try this time...before you hurt yourself?”

“Like what?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, relieved to find that he followed willingly if a bit slowly. “Come on.” She stopped back in her room, quickly throwing a few things in a bag, and then led him into the greenhouse. She collapsed into her usual spot, spreading out the materials she had brought with her.

“Why are we here? I can’t say plants are my idea of a good time.”

Clary rolled her eyes and tugged at his pants leg. “Just sit down, Alec. I’ll show you.” He sat across from her, looking out of place in a way she hadn’t seen Alec Lightwood look before. She passed him a sketchbook and some pencils. “I come up here sometimes when I want to be alone. I just let myself sink into the flowers and the plants and the solitude and just...draw whatever comes to mind. No plans, no expectations. You can just...be.”

“I don’t draw.” He muttered, flipping open the sketchbook and picking up one of the pencils tentatively. 

“Everyone can draw, and skill is relative. It’s not always about being good at something, it’s about giving yourself a way to get your feelings off your chest.” She started to sketch a purple orchid that was in a pot to her left. “Just try, Alec. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He sighed and glanced around the greenhouse, eyes settling on a pink and white flower behind her. They let themselves fall into relative silence, the only sound the scratching of pencil on paper. After about an hour, the sun started to rise and Alec glanced up surprised. He hadn’t realized how long they’d been out here. “I need to get back inside… the morning patrols will be leaving soon.”

He stood and offered a hand to help her up. “I hope it helped, at least a little.” She said, glancing at the sketchbook in his hand and the stargazer lily that stared back at her. Alec, it seemed, approached art the same way he tackled everything else - exquisite attention to detail. He was good, she mused, with practice, he could be great, though she wouldn’t hold out hope that he’d give himself the chance to do so. 

He gave her a small smile and pulled her into a tight hug, surprising both of them. He rested his chin on the top of her head, as he would sometimes do with Izzy, and she hugged him back. “Clary...thank you.” He left her in the greenhouse as he headed back inside to get to work. She knew that one night wasn’t going to change the tension between them but it was a start.

Much later, she’d realize that the macarons hadn’t made a return since that night but she wasn’t going to point it out, and as long as he had a way to cope, Alec deserved to keep his secrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a quote by Agatha Swanburne: 
> 
> “Busy hands and idle minds have knitted many a sweater; busy minds and idle hands have knitted many a brow.” — The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place, Book 3: The Unseen Guest.


End file.
